


In which a polecat is reminded that clothes are dangerous

by kanronotatsu



Series: The life of a polecat [1]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, My OCs, polecats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 01:53:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanronotatsu/pseuds/kanronotatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spots is a headstrong and brash polecat, living her life in Gastown. She wants to be the chromest polecat to ever polecat. But her efforst will land her in all kinds of trouble and mediocre happenings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which a polecat is reminded that clothes are dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> Spots and Spikes are my OCs and I decided to write a series of very short fanfics about their lives. Enjoy!

Sometimes the smallest details can seriously fuck up your plans. Like when you desperately try to convince your boss about how chrome you are, and then a small puddle of oil gets in your way. Of course it’s your boss’ fault too, because if he weren’t hell bent on wearing the most dangerous clothes of all fucking time, the situation could’ve been saved. Of course. And you would be out there, swinging merrily with the other cats, enjoying the breeze and the raid. That would be perfect. Instead you are sitting up on a stationary pole, trying not to fall asleep on guard duty, forcing your eyes to focus and trying to convince your legs not to fall asleep either. All of this while sporting no less than eight punctured holes on your skin. From top to bottom on the right side, all along your torso and thigh. Because of a puddle. And the twilight, the twilight is just as guilty.

* * *

 

Fate would have it, that when she was running full speed towards the Tower to catch Spikes, it was twilight. Well, her eyes were almost always perfectly fine, her vision too, but at twilight she was practically blind. In every other situation this wouldn’t have been a problem for Spots. But this wasn’t every other situation, it was that night, that twilight, and that exact moment when Spikes exited the garage when Spots happened to step on the slippery puddle of oil - _who the hell spilled oil right there?_ -, skidded, and collided with Spikes. Now Spikes was a very mellow guy but he happened to have a knack for sharp spikes - hence the name - which were scattered all along his clothes. Colliding with him was like falling onto the top of a buzzard car, without the dying chrome part of course. So when Spots made contact with him - not entirely her fault, you see, it was all because of the twilight and the puddle - she immediately tried to get as far away as possible. And this effort, combined with the force of the collision - Spikes was much taller and bigger than she was - pushed her backwards, and Spots landed ass-first in the guilty puddle.

The laughter erupted like a tornado around her in a second. The other polecats were laughing too, but Spikes was the worst, he truly, genuinely enjoyed this situation. Extending his hand towards Spots he helped her up, and looked her up and down, while having the most fun in his life it seemed.

“Mediocre, Spotty. This is why I can’t let you near the buzzards yet, kit.”

Spots, to maintain some of her dignity at least after being called mediocre _and_ a kit to top it all, tore her hand out of Spikes’ hold.

“It’s Spots. And I never slip on poles, only on the ground.” she straightened herself to full height, which was still a good head smaller than Spikes. She saw that her words only caused more merriment for the guy, who only ruffled her hair affectionately, just like he did with the kits. This was annoying Spots to no end and she stepped back, brows furrowed.

“I’m not a kit anymore.”

That being sad she turned tails and walked away, slowly, with sure steps, towards the Gate. And she was up on her pole for the rest of the night, legs cramped, wounds hurting.

It was this accident, _the Accident_ \- which was totally not her fault, it was all the puddle and the twilight - which she blamed for the next 600 days when Spikes wouldn’t let her go out on raids. Not that he did let her out before. But Spots was convinced that the Accident was the main reason. Not that one time she tried to swing the pole by herself and had to be rescued by Spikes after hanging upside down the whole night, because her foot got stuck in the harness. And it surely wasn’t because she stole a car once - it wasn’t exactly stealing, she didn’t take it out of the town after all. And most definitely not because she was actually still a kit. 5318 days, that’s how long she’s been in the world. Or that’s how long she had counted. Maybe she forgot some days too, it was hard to follow the number. Anyway, Spikes had a rule that only 6000 days old kits were allowed on raids. Spots tried to convince him that she was actually more than 6000 days old, she must’ve counted… no, not she, _everyone_ counted it wrong. But Spikes would only laugh. And he kept himself to the rule. And Spots was exactly 6000 days old on her first raid. Okay, maybe not _exactly_ 6000.

 

 


End file.
